


How To Say Goodbye

by muselesswriter



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Parenting, Drunk Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Racism, Sexual Assault, winston's PoV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muselesswriter/pseuds/muselesswriter
Summary: Winston went to a therapist that suggested he should at least try to write about what happened between him and Monty and try to describe his feelings.
Relationships: Montgomery de la Cruz/Winston Williams
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	How To Say Goodbye

What’s death? I never thought that one day I’ll be asking myself, my life’s been shielded for so long, lonely, but still shielded, protected, I never thought I’d lose someone at a young age, don’t get me wrong, I’m not stupid, I know everyone dies eventually, but I thought I had more time before I have to experience the pain of having someone close ripped from my life.

Perhaps when I’m 40, I’d lose a parent, I’d cry about it for a week or two, then I’ll be okay, because let’s face it, I don’t know those people who brought me to life, not really, they’ve always been busy, I spent most of my time with a babysitter, her name was Ashley, she was sweet, I don’t know what happened to her though, I like to imagine that she's in Maimi with a husband and two children living her best life, my parents decided I was old enough to look after myself when I became thirteen, that was when I came out as a proud gay boy, it’s not like they didn’t see the signs, they just ignored them like everything else in our life.

They fired Ashley a month later, my mom... she read somewhere that gay is more common in boys who’d been under sexual assault, so she came to the conclusion that Ashley raped me or assaulted me or whatever, she spent an entire year convincing me that not all women are bad, the thing is, Ashley was the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, she was a mother to me more than my own mother is.

Later they gave up and decided it was easier to benefit from the situation in hand instead, so they started setting me up with the gay sons of potential investors, some were old, some were the same age as me, some were nice, some weren’t.

Or perhaps my parents would remain alive even after my death? They are survivors, after all, they’d climb over my own neck if their lives depended on it, perhaps I’d lose the love of my life, my husband or my partner, whatever you call it, we’d be both in our sixties, I’d meet him in a books store and we get hitched two years after, we rescue dogs and help find them new homes, then adopt three children, two girls, and a boy, they’re siblings we didn’t want to separate them, and we’d live in New York. Why The Big Apple you say? Because it’s far away from here.

My husband’s lungs give up eventually and he dies, and I follow him after two years on the same day of his death, perhaps I thought about death a little too much, or perhaps it’s because I met him, and I lost him, just like that.

I’m not crazy, I know we’ve been together for eight months only, I know we probably wouldn't last, and I know I’m still young and stupid but I swear I felt loved for the first time in my life when he held me first.

his name is... was Montgomery De La Cruz, or simply Monty. We met at a party, I was sitting in an empty bedroom, reading magazines, I’m not a fan of parties but honestly, I needed to hook up with someone, I needed to feel something for a couple of minutes, ten if I was lucky even if it was shame at least I would feel something, so of course, when he walked in I took my chance, but instead of numbness, I felt like I wanted to be there, it was just a blowjob, a very aggressive one, but with him, I always felt a lot of things, mostly I enjoy them, he makes… he made me feel alive.

Funny thing, after the blowjob we met again at the party, I asked him to hang out but he punched me, it was so fucking painful, but I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, I understood, he punched me, and I knew, he’s the opposite of me, you see, I’m self-destructive, I’d do anything to hurt myself, quick hookups, getting too attached to people too easily, like a naive little boy, while he, he was the opposite, he was a hurricane who’d hurt anyone in his way, I don’t think he meant to hurt me that day, he just did what his instincts told him.

Then this dude, his name is Bryce Walker, the infamous rapist of Liberty High, showed up and paid me money for my silence, if we are being real here I wasn’t going to tell on Monty, and I definitely didn’t need the money, I gave it to a homeless guy on my way back home, but it would be nice for someone to take from Bryce, instead of him taking from everyone else, he told me Monty was getting beaten at home like it was the most normal thing ever. if he was his friend, shouldn’t he be helping him put an end to this?

I get why Monty wouldn’t say a word or take an action, he was a Mexican boy with a temper, no one would pay him attention or take him seriously, he’d probably go to the police station with a broken jaw and yell MY FATHER DID THIS and they’d be like with a whip or a belt or the legendary flops and make a joke about how they find it funny because it was normal in Mexican families.

But Bryce, he’s a rich white guy, the perfect citizen, yet he talked about it as if he’s telling me his team lost a game or the lunch lady spat in his salad, if you’re a lunch lady, please don’t get offended, that was a poor example, but what’s the point of being a privileged brat if you can’t help the people you claim to be your friends?

The second time I saw him was in Homecoming game, he came to the parking lot, he apologized, I, of course, forgave him like the good idiot I’m, I took him home, my parents were away for the weekend, we had sex, and it was… different, he didn't call me by someone else's name, he didn't tell me to stick my ass up and shut up, or turned off the lights, he held me, he stayed after it, he talked to me, I never had that before, it’s usually small talks -if I’m lucky, sex then they’d make the most ridiculous excuses to leave.

I had a guy once telling me he left the stove on, the stove wasn’t on three minutes ago when he had his dick buried in my ass! But Monty stayed, actually, he stayed for the weekend, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it, and we didn’t just fuck, we talked, I showed him some of the pictures I took, he told me about his best moments with the football team.

It was… like a dream, but now that I think of it, every moment with him felt like a dream, perhaps that’s why he was taken from me so easily because he wasn’t as real as I thought, anyway, we dated, in secret, he told me about his dad, how homophobic and mischievous he is, how he’d lash his anger on him for no reason, and all of that, I tried to help him but he kept refusing, he said he deserved it.

I’m not trying to make anyone feel pity for me, or him, I know what he did, I know he’s hurt people and it made me feel sick to the stomach but that was never the guy I knew, he told me about Tyler, if he didn’t feel bad about it, he wouldn’t come clean, right? I don’t know, I know some of you say he’s a monster but he was my monster.

And if you know, half of the person I knew, you would’ve understood why I loved that man, hell, I'm not trying to justify anything or make it sound any less of a terrible thing than it is but Bryce raped dozens of girls and got a second chance, Alex Standall murdered someone and he still got a second chance, Tyler Down almost shot everyone at school and he was redeemed and helped, why no one ever helped Monty? Perhaps if anyone did, we wouldn’t be here today.

He once told me, when he was in middle school, he had no friends but everyone knew about his dad, how an ass he is, and how he treats everyone, he told me he liked school and did good, his favorite subject was maths, strange right? He never failed, but one time he just couldn’t study because his dad put him in a coma for a couple of days, and his teacher said _“what was I expecting? After all, you are the son of Rico De La Cruz, it was a matter of time”_ he said from that day he stopped trying, he realized no matter what he does, he’d be known for that.

he was smart, no one knew it but he was smart, you don't believe me? for three years he kept his grades high enough to play in all teams, basketball, football, baseball even wrestling with barely any studying, he knew he wasn't going to college but he cared about sport, he kept his grades high enough for sports, he didn't want to sound smart though, or else Bryce would feel threatened.

He wasn’t a monster, he was actually very sweet, he liked Shrek, his favorite color is blue, he loved hot chocolate and he made the best food I’ve ever eaten! He wasn’t a monster, it was decided for him that he was, and eventually, he got dragged into the darkness.

He called me Win, not Winnie with an irritating tone, Win, he said having me by his side was his biggest win, I told him how cheesy and lame that was don’t worry, but still, I felt special.

He took me once under a bridge, he said he was showing me home, at first I pulled out my credit card and insisted on booking him a hotel room but then I learned, he didn’t want me to pity him, he wanted to share a part of his life with me, the walls were filled with street art, I think some he made even if he never admitted it, I recognize those strong lines and choices of colors anywhere, blue, red, orange, they were his colors.

I cried in front of him and he didn’t tell me that I was ugly, you see, my dad had this friend, who for some reason kept eyeing me for his entire visit, and when I went to the bathroom he followed me, and in a matter of seconds his hands were all over me, he was old, married, he had a daughter my age and a fucking grandson, he was all over me.

I slipped from under his hands and I went to the only person that didn’t make me feel like a disgusting cheap whore, even if I owned a few million.

I told him what happened, he held me, made sure I was safe, we were under a bridge in the middle of the cold night, he had one blanket in his car and he gave it to me, he even let me have the back of the car for myself and remained in the cold to give me space. 

Two days later, I met that guy again, this time, instead of a quality designed tie around his neck he had neck braces, and instead of that… pervert look on his face he had a black eye, he never gazed or glanced in my direction, not even once, I think it was Monty’s doing.

I guess he gave me a feeling of safety like with him, I was untouchable, god I’d give anything to feel like that again! To feel loved, wanted, safe, I’d give anything for five more minutes with him, even if it’s just to say goodbye, I just want to be held by him again.

I had too many mental breakdowns after his death, I think I broke forty thousand worthies of equipment at Hillcrest when I heard about him dying in prison, he told me once he was afraid of dying alone, that day he faced his worst fear, on the cold ground of that shower... they found his corpse surrounded by his blood many hours later, that’s why I got expelled, they said I wasn’t a good representative of the school anymore, not the perfect student, little did they know, I never was.

I moved to his old school, I wanted to be closer to him, I got my hands on school yearbooks, they had some pictures of him, he seemed so happy, that’s the thing about him, he always looked like he was living in the moment, maybe because he wasn’t really sure if there’d be tomorrow.

I tried to fall in love again, I did, but then, as ironic as it is, I fell in love with the guy who killed my first lover, not directly but it was still his fault, I couldn’t bring myself to turn him in, I doubt that the police department didn’t know about it already but covered it up and framed the dead guy who couldn’t defend himself.

He has a little sister, she looks nothing like him, she’s even short, she had a temper though, it rarely showed but you can see his anger in her eyes, I tried to friend her, hell I tried to friend all of the people who were part of his life just so I can get closer to him, nothing felt the same, but you know, it made me wonder... if Monty had so many people caring about him then why did he always feel hated and alone?

He told me about his sister though Estela, he said his father tried to drag her into his drunk mess, Monty would always try to step up and protect her, he told me most of their fights were because his father wanted to hit her or drag her down, he agreed to be a punchbag just so he’d leave her alone, he told me she’s the good one, that she’s the one who’d make it out of this town and get to live a good life, I think he was the good one, he was a good brother and a better secret boyfriend.

Monty never talked about his future, anything further than tomorrow didn’t exist to him, it was weird but I get where it came from, I tried to show him that it wasn’t necessarily true but then he showed me the marks his father left on him, it’s like he accepted that he’s a goner, like everyone saw it coming, everyone but me.

I… I started going to therapy, apparently knowing the truth didn’t do much difference, it only made it more complicated, there was a time when I didn’t leave my bed for a week, it made my parents concerned so that’s a proof of how bad things were.

You know, before him, I felt nothing, then with him I felt everything, and without him, I feel only one thing, and no matter how many pills I swallow I still feel it, I still feel my loneliness, I still feel my pain and sorrow.

My therapist said talking about it would help, but I can’t really talk about it, I told him I’d protect his secret, he told me to write about it, post it anonymously, reach out for griefing people, I guess that’s what I’m doing here, he told me to write a goodbye letter, but I couldn’t, I don’t want to say goodbye, I don’t want to forget him, fuck I’m terrified of forgetting him, he was the best thing I’ve ever had, and I don’t think anyone could make me feel that way again.

I’m being dramatic, that’s what you’re thinking, I probably am, but I loved him, and I knew him enough to love him I swear I did, he made me feel loved but I never had a chance to return the favor, I miss him, I miss everything about him, how he smelled like lemon, how he smiled, the freckles on his face that everyone often ignored, his beautiful eyes, I even miss how he snores, he told me because his nose is messed up but fuck I miss it so damn much, I miss hearing him laugh, breath, talk, I miss his voice my heart aches for him, I… I should go.


End file.
